Its Raining Its Pouring
by willwrite4fics
Summary: and everyone is hating it. And certain people are bored. Entry to the Short Story Speed Writing Challenge.


Raining Cats and Dogs

It wasn't ALWAYS snowing at Stalag 13. Sometimes it rains. And rains. And rains some more.

* * *

It was raining at Stalag 13. While this was better than snowing, it wasn't pleasant. No one seemed to like the rain. When it was a torrential downpour, it seemed as if every barracks had leaks develop in the roof. Even the cracks in the poorly constructed walls and doors allowed spatters of rain to come through. All of the bunks pushed against the walls got damp. All of the prisoners stayed perpetually wet and it made most of them grumpy and quarrelsome.

There was also the risk of illness spreading. Not only the damp chill but also the close quarters made even a simple sniffle turn into a potential epidemic. The merest sneeze would cause suspicion. During the nights the rain would turn to sleet and ice would form in the most inconvenient places. Certain POWs were most prone to finding those patches of ice. Carter was the most obvious one. LeBeau was less obvious and did not take his status as 'most fallen' very graciously. It did not help that Newkirk took every opportunity to remind LeBeau that he had the shortest distance to fall so he should complain the least about it.

Hogan was frustrated. Not only was the weather causing his own men to bicker and sicken, but the rains were washing out roads near the camp. This led to shortages on supplies as trucks had to find alternate routes to the camp and into town. Klink was tightly wound over every interruption to the regular routine and continually had the senior POW in his office to complain to over minor offenses on the part of the increasingly bored and irritable prisoners.

Hogan was relying heavily on Kinch's ability to intercept complaints from the prisoners and deal with them. Normally Hogan tried to make himself available to his men. When he was incredibly busy, Kinch took up the mantle. The capable sergeant was well respected by most of the camp, German and Allied alike. He was considered to be the second-in-command to Hogan and took his position seriously.

Right now, he was trying not to want to twist Newkirk's head off for his continuing sniping at both LeBeau and Carter. Normally he would send the arguing pair outside but with the pouring rain and Newkirk's amazing ability to pick up every cold that ran through the camp, he didn't dare shove him out the door.

Even when he really, really wanted to.

"Louis, what is that 'orrible smell? Smells like you're boiling Carter's old socks in that pot!"

Even when he really, really deserved it.

"If you complain one more time, I swear I will make bouillabaisse for you!" LeBeau didn't even turn around to glare at his friend ensconced on his upper bunk out of reach. Newkirk had retreated up to the safety to lounge shivering and watch the rest of the barracks an hour before. "With the weather, I bet that if I asked Carter really nicely, he could fish out of the front door and catch us enough fish to make a giant pot full, just for you."

While Carter snickered a bit, Newkirk made a face. "Don't do me any favors." He looked disappointed at not getting a rise out of LeBeau. Obviously bored and wanting to needle someone for sheer entertainment, he turned on Carter. The chill was making the Englishman irritable and LeBeau being next to the stove cooking meant he couldn't warm up next to it's meager warmth. "Carter would probably just trip and fall on the ruddy fish if 'e caught one." His eyes gleamed a bit as he watched for any reaction from his target.

Carter disappointed him. "I wouldn't fall in… I might have to cut a hole in the ice to fish through though." He was leaning on the window frame, staring out at the downpour. "It's really raining cats and dogs out there."

"Quelle?" LeBeau did look over for that. "What do you mean, cats and dogs?" He hurried over to look out of the window next to Carter. "I don't see any animals?"

Before Carter could explain, Newkirk scoffed loudly in amusement. "Carter means to say it's raining really 'ard, Louie. It's a common expression, I'd think that even you would 'ave 'eard it before." He shifted himself to sit up on the edge of his bunk.

LeBeau pulled a face at him. "Well if it's a common expression, it's not a wonder that you'd know it. You're as common as they come." He knew he was touching a nerve on the Englishman but in his opinion, Newkirk had been needling everyone all morning and deserved a prick to his ego.

Newkirk responded instantly. "You watch it, you ruddy frog!" He started to shift to jump off of his bunk but stopped when Kinch got up to move in front of him.

Kinch sipped at his cup of hot water and looked calmly up at Newkirk before turning his attention to LeBeau and Carter at the window. He was standing in the only place that Newkirk could easily jump down, so the Brit was at least temporarily trapped up in his bunk unless he wanted to awkwardly crawl to the end of his bunk and clamber down around a hamper of clothing and a footlocker someone had pulled out to hold a drip bucket. Kinch knew exactly where he was standing and Newkirk knew exactly why he was standing there. And neither of them would mention it to the other.

Kinch's tiny smile was hidden mostly behind his cup. "LeBeau, the expression does mean it's raining very hard. The way it started was because people had a old myth that dogs and cats slept up in the thatch roof of houses way back in history and if it rained hard enough, it would wash them out of the straw to fall in the gutters of the streets. So when dogs and cats were falling out of the sky, it must be raining really hard."

LeBeau snorted loudly. "That sounds ridiculous. Who would believe that dogs and cats would fall out of the sky when it rains." Unable to resist, he added slyly, "It would have to be the English that came up with that."

Ignoring Newkirk's noise of outrage, Carter spoke up quickly. "It's really something that everyone says back home, so I always say it too. Once it was raining so hard that the creek flooded and we had to swim all the cows across it to get them back up near the barn and boy, cows really don't want to swim. You really have to make them go across the river and then sometimes the current is too strong even though cows can swim really well, a lot better than most people think, actually. I mean, cows have thin legs and you wouldn't believe that they can swim without any paddles but they manage pretty well. Except some little calves can't swim and then you have to carry those across. Once my uncle carried a baby calf across on his shoulders all by himself! It was a pretty big calf too, so it was pretty neat." Carter rambled on, watching the rain pour outside the window. LeBeau settled himself on the bunk next to the window to listen to Carter's stories.

Kinch cast a wary glance up at Newkirk, ready to warn him about picking fights. Instead he saw the Brit with a half smile on his face, listening to Carter's nonstop chatter about home. The mud and rain and cold was miserable, but that was all outside for now. Right now, they had hot coffee, blankets and warm stories from home from Carter.

Some times the stories were the warmest part of the day in Stalag 13.

* * *

End

Brothers make life warmer than drafty old stoves any day.


End file.
